4 am, i wake up in a sublime state. 5 am, i get out of bed, and i get ready for school.

0 i'm on time for orchestra; the first time in a long time. exciting.

1 fuck web design. even though i have six out of my seven periods with kim, this is the only class i really talk to her in. so that's cool.

2 american studies is american studies. minh-tu has a laughing disorder.

break time. i lean on a pillar in the student commons, only thinking about one thing, but putting on the facade of seemingly thinking about nothing. she jumps from behind, and pulls my sleeve. she says she is sorry for saturday, and that she should have never let it happen. i say it is my fault too. if my life were in a cartoon, the moment she would look away would be the moment a single tear would trickle from the bottom of my eye, down my cheek. she walks with me up the stairs, and i can't help but feel vacant inside.

3 american studies is american studies.

lunch time. i try to do homework, but i fail at that. it is revealed that rey, the new kid that reminds me and brian of michael baxter, is engaged to his girlfriend. this is crazy stuff; rey is only a junior.

4 i get my test back from last friday. 86. i didn't know what to expect, i never do anything in spanish. rey and i talk about his quote-unquote "engagement," because during lunch i didn't think about it much in disbelief. it turns out rey had gone out with his girlfriend for 5 months, and he's getting their engagement rings next month. his grandparents, on his father's side, bought him condoms. his father doesn't care that they have sex. he had a fun summer. his mom, however, found his box of condoms yesterday, and so his whole family knows now. rey rey: what a kid.

5 during biology, all i can think about is winmill's sweater. i don't like it. it's purple, and it sort of looks like a brown sweater that i got recently. perhaps, i'll wear my sweater tomorrow. when i'm older, i hope i don't wear sweater's like mr. lance winmill, with a white undershirt. that's okay if you're a kid, my age, but not when you're 31 or 26 or however old winmill is.

6 i meander about through journalism. i like this class a lot, because i have a lot of friends in journalism. yipee.

after school, amy and i collect the paper recycleables on the third floor, for green team. we talk about stuff, and every time it is silent, it seems like we're weirded out by each other. sometimes, i boy can have hope in something, but in this case, i cannot. she has a boyfriend. her smell makes me reminisce of one night. her boyfriend's scent memory must be triggered to THREE MOTHERFUCKING YEARS OF TEENAGE LOVE. i have to respect that, and i naturally do.

i stop by the lunch room, to see derek, roger, tyree, and jaymar at the renton player's audition. they want me to audition, because of my improvisational experience with tribes. i think the only drama in me belongs to tribes, exclusively, unless i'm offered a part in a hollywood blockbuster. and then i run out.

i run and i run and i run, and i'll never get better at it. i'm burnt out of the will to run, i guess. i'm probably going to have a case of the would-of-should-of-could-of's concerning my running career, but fuck running.

at home, i take a good look at my homecoming picture for the first time. i, of course, look like the goofy kid i am, but amy is absolutely and stunningly beautiful.

i drink a lot of milk. i need a band.